


The Fresh Prince of Hales

by GiggleSnortBangDead



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Fluff, M/M, Royalty, Steter Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiggleSnortBangDead/pseuds/GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles spends a week with an amnesiac werewolf who saved his life. He's pretty sure Peter's a criminal.  (Spoiler: He's really not.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fresh Prince of Hales

**Author's Note:**

> i am so embarrassed by my titling abilities

  
Stiles woke up warm and held, him and Peter crammed into his almost too small bed. Pleasantly sore, he stretched, trying not to wake the sleeping man nuzzled against his naked chest. He couldn't think of the previous night without smiling to himself; some stupid, love-stricken look, his fingers brushing over the man's soft, tousled hair. If it weren't for his bladder and stomach, Stiles would have laid there until the end of time.

But, as it was, he extracted himself carefully. It was impossible to get up without moving Peter a little, not when pinned like he was, but Stiles did his best and the man stayed mostly asleep.

"Breakfast," he ordered and then turned over.

"So bossy." Stiles tsked. He pressed a quick kiss on the corner of Peter's mouth and left him, slipping on a pair of boxer briefs and nothing else.

Padding through a slow, quite morning routine, he ended up downstairs, yawning over the stove, waiting for the right moment to flip the bacon. He heard Peter tread into the kitchen and didn't turn, letting him come behind him, snaking his arms around the younger man's waist. He nosed a line across his neck, breathing him in deeply.

"You're making me breakfast." he murmured, pleased.

"Just this once." Stiles lied, and Peter chuckled, low and rumbling in his throat. "Can you make up pancake batter?"

"Probably." Peter remarked, unmoving, still scenting him. He kissed over his pulse point, tongue lapping out, mouth starting to suck.

Stiles groaned and pushed him off. "Go make pancakes."

Peter gave his hips a gentle squeeze and went to do as told. He navigated Stiles's kitchen with a familiarity that pleased Stiles to no end. For someone who'd been with him for little over a week, Peter had Stiles figured out almost as well as his dad or Scott. He also did hot, naked things with him, which was just an added bonus.

He flipped the bacon pieces for himself and left Peter's to burn a little, the way he liked them.

"Did you remember anything while you slept?" Peter shook his head but didn't seem to care. "Wouldn't it be cool if you suddenly remembered you'd buried treasure somewhere? Then we could go on an adventure to dig it up."

"I don't think I'd bury treasure. Probably just put it in a safety deposit box. Less digging."

"Party pooper." Stiles accused, and sent Peter a smile which was returned.

"You just want me to be secretly rich, you gold digger." Peter teased, adding water to the batter and stirring.

"Yup." Stiles popped, turning off the stove to put the bacon on a plate. "That's exactly what I was thinking when I brought you home. 'Maybe this guy with a concussion - who got said concussion saving my _life_ \- is secretly loaded. Better take him home and sex him up.' You caught me. That was my master plan all along."

"It's odd," Peter said, taking over the stove to make pancakes. "I don't think I'd even care if that's why you did it."

"Aw, you like me so much, you'd pay for me?" Stiles cooed, one hand over over his heart, obviously deeply touched, while the other grabbed a piece of bacon.

Peter shrugged. "The sex is somegood, that's all." he assured him, "I certainly don't have any embarrassing feelings in regard to your company."

"Aw, boo." Stiles teased, mouth half full. He swallowed. "I have embarrassing feelings in regards to your company too."

"No," Peter corrected, "See, I said I _didn't_ \- " and Stiles kissed him.

Peter got his hands in Stiles's hair, growling low, slotting the young man so close, rubbing against him, sleepy and warm. Stiles pulled back, grinning.

"Pancakes will burn if you keep that up." Stiles filched another piece of bacon and leaned against the counter, feeling and looking smug. Peter stole the half-eaten piece right out of his finger and Stiles couldn't bring himself to care in the slightest. They finished cooking and Stiles got a second plate.

"What do you want to do today?" he asked, sitting at the table. Peter joined him.

"We could go out to the woods again. Somewhere far off the trails where no one can find us."

"For a picnic or sex?" Stiles asked seriously. He stuffed food into his mouth but still managed to look very concerned with the issue.

"I don't see why both aren't an option. Early evening dinner, and then I can ravish you as the sun goes down."

" _Ravish?_ " Stiles repeated, delighted. "Now that's something you don't hear often. I think I could be down for a good ravishing tonight."

"Oh, I hope so." Peter said. "There's going to be ravishing aplenty."

"And what will we do before then? To kill time?"

"Oh," Peter hummed lowly. "I can think of a few things."

Just then, someone unlocked the door and pushed in. Stiles didn't even have time to react, it was so quick. Peter sat rigid in his seat, his proverbial hackles raised Stiles was trying to get him up and hiding when the Sheriff walked into the dining room, already looking disappointed.

Stiles froze and ran his hands through his hair several times.

"Dad! You're home early! _Why are you home early?_ Also, this is nothing to be alarmed about." he said, gesturing frantically between him and Peter.

The Sheriff dropped his bags and looked at the two shocked still figures in his house. "Scott called to tell me that you had a strange man staying in my house." Stiles rolled his eyes, because he knew it was a gamble telling Scott; he was just too good. "So. Why are you eating breakfast with the Prince of Hales, naked?"

"One," Stiles started immediately, "I'm not _totally_ naked. Two, it's morning so what else would we be eating. Three - _What?_ " and as it sunk in, he looked hard at the man still seated at the table, who was looking back at him with mirrored confusion.

And it all clicked. "Oh my God, you're Peter, _Prince of Hales_." He scrubbed a hand over his face and said, "My room - now." He grabbed at the man's shoulder, pulling him from the table.

"We're not done here!" the Sheriff called after them. Stiles didn't respond, pushing Peter up the stairs and into his room. He went straight to his computer once the door was shut. Peter put on his clothes slowly.

"Christ, Peter. I can handle a criminal. I can handle a miserable sexual deviant. I can even handle the whole werewolf thing - but you're _royalty_. I guess it explains a lot. You have basically no practical skills. You're bossy - _so bossy_ \- not to mention a royal pain in my - _Why_ aren't you more surprised?" Stiles flailed, finally looking at him. Peter was tugging on a pair of he Sheriff's jeans. He sauntered over to the young man's desk chair.

"Come on. It's sort of like buried treasure." He leaned over the chair, fingers clasped around the back of Stiles's neck. Stiles, a little overemotional at that moment, felt heat flicking through his body, causing him to lose focus for moment. "I'm secretly rich - just like you wanted."

"Yeah, uh, except now people are going to think I kidnapped you and brainwashed you because you're _really_ rich. Oh, God," Stiles moaned, "I'm gonna go to jail. Jail doesn't factor into my life plans."

Peter looked mock-astounded. "I'd never let you go to jail. I'd have absolutely no use for you there."

Stiles didn't look convinced as he turned back to the screen, scanning for information.

"Here we go: _Billionare playboy bachelor Prince Peter of Hales went missing somewhere in California during a tour of the United States. Peter, notorious for ditching his bodyguards_ \- Oh, Jesus Christ, Peter - _was reported missing around_ \- yadda yadda yadda. You do this a lot, huh?" Stiles asked, unimpressed. Peter grinned and went back to finding a shirt. Stiles got up to quickly scavenge for clothes as well.

"I can see why I would dodge my entourage from time to time." Peter said, shirt on, waiting for Stiles to catch up. "However, I doubt it's common for me to lose my memories and become romantically involved with handsome young peasant boys."

Stiles put his hands on his hips, half-exasperated. "You having fun?"

"I can't say I'm not enjoying myself." and something about his words made Stiles ache, acutely, and it all came crashing in that this revelation meant it was almost certainly the end. Peter seemed to sense something change in Stiles's demeanor and his own grin faltered. "What's wrong?"

Stiles forced a smile and shook his head. "You ready to face the music?"

Peter rolled his eyes but bridged the short distance between them. He took Stiles's hand and held it gently. "I doubt we have anything to worry about."

"My dad has guns." Stiles informed him.

"And I'm the Prince of Hales." Peter returned. "Even if I don't remember, I know for a fact that no one stands between me and what I want." He lead the young man out of the room by his hand and Stiles let himself foolishly hope that Peter had meant him.

~~~~~

The discussion with the Sheriff was brief. The three of them sat around the table, Peter and Stiles next to each other on one side, the Sheriff on the other. He had mostly focused on the fact that Stiles had brought someone he thought might have been a criminal into his home.

"But, he wasn't!" Stiles reminded him.

"I know you're young." his dad said, looking tired, rubbing his forehead. "And you're going to make stupid choices. But, for God's sake, can you have _some_ concern for your safety? Or, at least, for the safety of my property?"

"Mr. Stilinski." Peter started, sitting at ease in his chair, and Stiles wasn't sure how he hadn't guessed it before then. His posture was so perfect, his manner entitled and smug. He was just so regal - what else could he have been but actual royalty?

" _Sheriff_." he corrected, growling, his palms flat on the table. He kind of looked like he wanted to jump over the table and throttle someone. Stiles wasn't sure who exactly, but someone was in danger of throttlement.

"Sheriff." Peter amended, easily, with a smile that made Stiles nervous, because it was pretty close to a murder smile. "Obviously, your son didn't bring a criminal home. Dwelling - "

"I don't know you're not a criminal. Just 'cause you're royalty - "

"Dad!" Stiles crowed, burying his face in his hands.

"No, Stiles! You had no idea what kind of person you were bringing home. Anything could have happened to you and I - " he cut himself off, too emotional. Stiles breath was shallow, guilt settling heavy in his stomach, and he had nothing to say for himself.

"Sheriff Stilinski," Peter started again. "At this point, it seems foolish for me to not at least check in with a doctor and try to contact my embassy. Do you think you could drive me to a hospital?"

"I can take you." Stiles volunteered.

"No." the Sheriff said, standing up. "I've got this."

Peter stood as well, his hand curling around Stiles's shoulder and squeezing lightly. He looked like he wanted to kiss him, but thought the better of it. Instead, he took Stiles's hand and pressed a kiss there. The Sheriff made an impatient noise and Peter let go. He walked out the door with Stiles's father, and it felt like the end.

* * *

Stiles's father came back half an hour later. He muttered something about the circus coming to town and then had a long sit down with his son. He didn't use the phrase "stranger danger" but it was heavily implied. Increasingly, Stiles felt more and more awful for interrupting his dad's vacation, even if he didn't technically ask for him to come home and walk in on things.

His dad seemed to be finished, but he was hesitating, and finally said, "Don't make any rash decisions. I don't want to see you hurt."

"Uhh," Stiles said, "Thanks, Dad. I know."

The Sheriff nodded once and then excused himself to unpack and take a shower. Stiles picked up the dishes of their half-eaten breakfast and started to clean, trying hard not to think too much and failing.

When finished, he retreated to his bedroom and made a sadness den with blankets and pillows. He was aware that it was dumb, that he shouldn't have expected anything from Peter, one way or the other. And, it wasn't like he said they'd never see each other again.

But hours passed and he didn't call to check in. And, thinking about it, there was absolutely no way the Prince of Hales would have much time for his young, unspecial, week long fling from a no-name town in California. He'd go back to Triskeland and get his memory back and forget all about Stiles, who burrowed deeper into his sorrow nest and had a despair nap.

He woke up to the sounds of someone knocking downstairs and his dad shouting, "Stiles, can you get that?"

Stiles was up immediately, rushing down the stairs, throwing the door open.

"Jesus Christ, Peter. You could have _called_ me, at least to say - What are you wearing?"

Peter grinned, and appeared to be in green scrubs, a leather jacket, and a pair of cheetah print sunglasses.

"I needed a disguise." he said, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. They stood in the front room, not touching. "I had to dodge my bodyguards again to get back, not to mention the press has been informed. I bought the leather jacket from one of the doctors, and one of the nurses just gave me her sunglasses after I told her I had a young man to pursue. She thought it was very romantic - I think she might sell the idea to Hollywood. We'll have to beat her to it, make sure to keep the profit to ourselves."

"And the scrubs?" Stiles asked, absently.

"Stolen." Peter beamed. "You really seemed hooked on the idea that I was a criminal - I didn't want to disappoint."

"Don't tell my dad." and there was a silence. Stiles bit his lip. "I thought you might not come back?"

Peter's eyes softened, the corners of his lips relaxing. "That's why you're so upset," he said, like he understood now, "You thought I'd leave without saying goodbye?"

Stiles's eyes shut and he tried to not feel hurt. "So, you are leaving?"

"Oh, my heart." Peter hummed, an arm reaching around his waist and pulling him tight. "Didn't your father tell you?"

He felt his breath draw tight and his eyes flashed to Peter's bright blue ones. "Tell me what?"

"That I was going to come back and court you." he said, softly. A hand smoothed back some of the young man's hair. "I told your father my intentions; I had hoped he might let you know as well."

"You want to stay and _court me?_ " Stiles repeated.

"Well," Peter sighed, putting a little space between them. "That was the idea. But, now that everyone knows where I am, I've been ordered to go back to Triskeland." and the way he said it, it was like he expected Stiles to get some kind of deeper meaning from his words.

"Oh." was all he could managed, not catching on.

"You could come with me." Peter finally said.

Stiles's eyes widened. "You want that?"

And the man's brow furrowed just slightly. "Why wouldn't I? I meant what I said about courting you - I just have to do that in my home country, recovering from head trauma." Stiles hesitated still so Peter said, "You have all of summer break and no apparent plans. Come home with me."

He looked at the man very carefully, searching for an off, mocking gesture, a joking tone - bt he looked so serious. Stiles let himself smile. "Okay. This is crazy, but let's do it."

"Good." Peter said, kissing him quick and then pushing him to the stairs. "Now, go pack. Our plane leaves in an hour."

Stiles laughed. "Wow, sure of yourself, aren't you?"

Peter smiled easily. "Comes with the title."

On the stairs, Stiles paused, looking back, a little nervous. "What if you get your memories back and don't want me anymore?"

"Then I give you express permission to hit me with a brick until I forget again. I'll write it in a contract if you want." and Stiles beamed fully, laughing brightly.

"I'm gonna pack - and tell my dad, _shit_. Give me fifteen minutes."

"Hurry." Peter urged, and the boy took off.

They were on a plane in forty mnutes and in Triskeland several hours later - although it was earlier there than when they'd left, but Stiles tried not to dwell because the whole thing made his head reel. They slept in the royal palace, together, Peter knotted inside of his boy, Stiles's hands clutching the man's back. They drove to Hales, after meeting the Royal Family, to a cottage where Peter could recoup.

Stiles didn't even have to touch a brick to get Peter to keep him when he remembered.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it okay! Take care! Be good!
> 
> Shameless tumblr plug: [My Blog](http://gigglesnortbangdead.tumblr.com/)


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